


might be a prayer

by soulgraves



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgraves/pseuds/soulgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always been good at reading Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	might be a prayer

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Blaine and Sam getting caught in the rain while walking home which leads to Sam pressing Blaine up against his house/apartment building's front door and kissing him for the first time. [Post _Guilty Pleasures_. For [cressdarnelthorne](http://cressdarnelthorne.tumblr.com).]

Sam’s not drunk but he’s at least part way to tipsy, so he doesn’t argue when Marley takes the key to his truck, eyes wide with apology even as she goes to dig Ryder’s out of his coat pocket before he can look up from _Halo_. He honestly hadn’t meant to drink _anything_ , but then Sugar started mixing these amazing, sweet cocktails and Puck had shown up with a bottle of Johnnie Walker under his arm, and, really, Sam’s only so strong.

“I’m sorry, dude,” he repeats for the fifth time, and Blaine laughs, the puff of air visible in front of his face.

“It’s fine, Sam. Besides, I was drinking too.”

“Still,” Sam says, tugging his jacket tighter against his chest and wishing he’d thought to grab the gloves from his backseat before they took off. “I promised you a ride.”

Blaine shrugs, pulling up his scarf until it’s covering the bottom of his chin, and the flash of red against his navy peacoat makes Sam want to smile. It’s Dalton but it’s also _Blaine_ , sensible and classic and smart with a burst of brilliance, bright and intense and impossible to stop looking at once you have.

He’s been having a lot of thoughts like that lately.

It’s over an hour's walk to Blaine’s house, and, really, they don’t need to be making it; Sam could call the Hudmels for a ride or a taxi if he didn’t mind clearing his bank account, but he doesn’t suggest either and neither does Blaine, they just start heading in the right direction, talking about this week’s glee assignment and if anyone’s heard from Mr. Schue lately and Unique’s crush on Ryder.

They talk about New York but not Kurt, and Sam doesn’t know if that’s because of Blaine or because of him, not anymore. It’s weird; Kurt’s been a big part of Sam’s time in Lima, from that crazy few weeks when he first arrived to Sam living in the room down the hall, and if you’d asked him before the summer he’d have said they were friends, good friends, except they’ve barely spoken since Kurt took off and Sam isn’t surprised, not really. 

To be honest, he’d thought he had a lot of friends until Blaine, which should be sad but really just makes him want to keep Blaine all the closer.

“You alright?” Blaine asks when Sam’s been quiet for a beat too long, and Sam smiles and shoves his hands further into his coat pockets. Blaine’s been asking him that all the time recently, since the crush thing, like he’s worried Sam’s going to think about it and become a totally different douchebag person who wants nothing to do with him anymore, and that would be offensive if he didn’t know Blaine well enough to recognize the ton of insecurities under all the bowties and hair gel. 

“Yeah, I’m great,” he says, nudging their shoulders together playfully, and maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the building _thing_ between them that makes him add, “I’m with you.”

Blaine ducks his head, cheeks flushed from the cold or Sam’s words or both, and Sam steps a little closer, just enough to ease the tightness is his chest when he sees the smile Blaine’s trying to hide.

The night’s turned even colder around them, and when the rain starts it feels like ice, soaking him through within minutes. It’s Blaine who moves nearer this time, until they’re pressed side to side, and Sam has a moment to hesitate before he thinks _screw it_ and wraps his arm around Blaine’s shoulders, trying not to think too much about the way Blaine molds perfectly into him. Blaine lets out a breath but doesn’t protest, and it’s pretty good odds that at least one of them will wake up with a cold tomorrow but right now Sam doesn’t care at all, not when he can smell Blaine’s raspberry hair gel and feel the way he’s shivering a little even bundled up in all the layers he wears this time of year.

Blaine starts talking about Cooper and their trip to the Philippines next year to visit family and his mom’s new car, and Sam’s sure he didn’t used to ramble like this - not that he remembers - and the idea that he makes Blaine _nervous_ is hilarious and weird and amazing. 

The rain’s coming down heavier now and Sam’s toes have gone numb in his sneakers; he needs to invest in a new pair of boots before the weather turns much worse, and he says as much to Blaine who nods and says, “Mall day tomorrow?” and Sam was just going to order some online but that sounds so much better.

“We could see a movie, too,” he says. “Grab a pizza or something.”

Blaine grins up at him, and one day Sam’s going to catalogue Blaine’s smiles because he has so many that all mean something a little different. This one’s easy and comfortable with a touch of excitement and a whole lot of pleasure at being asked, and it’s probably creepy he knows that but Blaine’s his best friend and Sam’s always been good at reading people.

He’s always been good at reading _Blaine_.

There’s hardly any cars on the road now, and Sam told the Hudmel’s he’d be late but he thinks Blaine’s parents are probably out of town again if Blaine’s lack of concern about curfews is anything to go by. The streetlights are dimmed by the rain, casting misshapen shadows in front of them as they walk, and Sam tilts his head closer to Blaine’s so it feels like the rain’s falling _around_ them instead of between. It’s stupid and maybe he drank more than he thought, but now he can see the raindrops clinging to Blaine’s eyelashes and feel his breath, warm in the air between them when he presses his cheek into Sam’s chest, and he’s never minded making an idiot out of himself but Blaine’s not laughing, just tightening his fingers in Sam’s coat and holding on.

It’s almost a surprise when they reach Blaine’s street, and Sam doesn’t know if it’s his doing or Blaine’s or all in his imagination but it feels like they slow down, dragging out the last few steps until they reach the Anderson’s drive. Blaine lets go first, stepping back to leave breathing space between them, and it’s like Sam can _see_ the mask dropping in place as he smiles, ready to pretend the last hour never happened, and maybe Sam should let him, maybe he’s spent so much time building this thing up in his own head and Blaine really is totally unaware of the tension that started with an _“I know”_ and then didn’t ever end the way it was supposed to.

Or maybe he thinks Sam’s the oblivious one.

The rain hasn’t let up, they’re both soaked through to the bone, and Sam should let Blaine go inside, ask to use his phone to call Finn for a ride and wait it out in the shelter of the Anderson’s kitchen. Blaine’s still watching him, polite, friendly words on the tip of his tongue, and Sam should laugh it off and ask to borrow one of Cooper’s old shirts, should wait until he’s totally sober to think about all the thoughts that have flooded his head tonight, this week, this year. 

He should do a lot of things.

His hand’s still on Blaine’s shoulder, and maybe it’s that contact that finally tips him past the point of no return, pushing Blaine until his back hits the door and leaning down before Blaine can do much more than widen his eyes.

Blaine tastes like rain and Sugar’s cocktails and vanilla lip balm, and he’s totally still under Sam’s hands for a long moment; Sam’s about to pull away, a line of _sorry_ ’s ready to spill between them, but then Blaine’s moving, surging forward until their teeth clash and his hands are tugging at Sam’s hair, and _god_ , this is what it’s all been slowly edging towards, _this_ right here. They’re both shivering, from the rain and from each other, and Blaine’s teeth scrape against Sam’s lip as Sam’s fingers dig into Blaine’s arm, and it’s messy and awkward and everything Sam hasn’t let himself hope it could be.

Blaine arches into him, deepening the kiss and letting slip a moan that’s too loud against the night, but the rain’s still coming down around them, shielding them from prying eyes, and Sam doesn’t think he’d care even if everyone on Blaine’s prim and proper street could see them pushing closer and closer into each other.

It doesn’t feel like a first kiss - not the hesitant, innocent ones that Sam’s known anyway - and maybe that fits them too; they can both be too intense, both fall and push and jump into places their hearts lead them, and that’s never worked in their favor before but maybe that’s because they both need someone who won’t run scared from it (or maybe Sam’s just hoping that’s true).

They kiss until Sam’s lips feel bruised, his body numb everywhere except where Blaine’s touching him, and even then they only break apart when the first roll of thunder shatters the bubble they’ve created. It’s jarring, and for a moment the world feels unreal, Blaine shaking under his hands, eyes hooded with a want Sam’s never seen directed his way.

“Come in?” Blaine says, and Sam hears the silent _“Stay?”_ in the way his fingers catch in the hem of Sam’s shirt and his teeth dig into his lower lip; Sam’s nodding before he can start thinking about why this might be a stupid idea, and then Blaine’s face is crumbling into something like awe and Sam has to kiss him again, has to try and make him understand all the things he can’t even begin to put into words yet.

Blaine fumbles for his keys, and Sam crowds him against the door as much to shelter him as to be near him, reaching for his hand and resting his head on his shoulder to catch his bearings, feeling Blaine’s pleased, quiet hum and wondering if Blaine can feel his smile pressed through layers of clothes.

“Come on,” Blaine says, “the storm’s almost here.”

“I love storms,” Sam says, voice muffled against the fabric of Blaine’s coat, and hardly means storms at all.


End file.
